


Tailor-Made

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-15
Updated: 2010-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot wears a suit. Hardison likes it. A lot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tailor-Made

**Author's Note:**

> For round 17 of the Rounds of Kink livejournal community. No spoilers. No own. No harm intended. Oh, and the tie (my prompt) thing gets pretty dirty. Not painful but definitely kinky so be warned.

It's not like Eliot Spencer has never worn a suit before. Because he has. He's worn them for weddings and funerals, infiltrations and retrievals. He's even worn them for cons. But something about this particular suit, with its navy blue coloring and bright blue pin-striping, is different. It's beautiful on him. Cut perfectly to fit just right. And the handkerchief and silk tie are the same shade of the stripes, and man, does he look good. Sophie, when he'd shown up, let a slight, accidental hesitation show in her explanation of the history of the Louvre. The rest of us hadn't seen him yet since our backs were to him. Then Nate had turned and coughed like his bourbon went down the wrong pipe. Then Parker, wanting to be nosy, had turned as well and giggled. So of course I had to see what all the fuss was about. I was the last to face him, and the first to actually say out loud what we were all thinking.

 

“Damn, El, you cleaned up nice!” Actually I didn't mean to say anything at all. It's just that he looked, well, stunning. Or as stunning as a man can look. His dark brown hair was brushed and flowing over his shoulders and his tan only accentuated the rich playboy vibe he was giving out.

 

We carried on going over the plan as we usually did before the con, but I have to admit I kept stealing glimpses of him. I couldn't help it. Even if Parker hadn't been tugging at the tie I still would've noticed its silken texture. He'd paid some money for it and it was worth every penny in my estimation. The problem was I found myself thinking more about it, and the man wearing it, than the con. Luckily everything worked out in our favor. The client was happy. We were all still in one piece. And once again congratulations were in order. I just couldn't keep my eyes off him, and he knew it.

 

Which is how I ended up here in Eliot's apartment, backed against the kitchen island with Eliot and his suit doing that patented Eliot smirk.

 

“Like what you see, kid?” he growls. The growling thing doesn't help at all. Because now not only am I imagining peeling the suit off him slowly with my teeth, I'm imagining him growling as I do it.

 

“I was just thinking I should get a suit like yours, man. I mean the ladies-” I start with instead but he interrupts me.

 

“Uh huh. And that's why you couldn't stop looking at me, right? Because you liked the cut of my suit?” I hate him. I really do. He's always right, the bastard!

 

“What? You don't think I'd look good in pin-stripe? I'll have you know I'm a knock out in pin-stripe. I can rock it like nobody's...” I pause. He's unbuttoning the jacket, revealing a vest the same glossy color as the tie and handkerchief, and the sheen of it brings out the blue of his eyes in a way I've never noticed before. He smiles victoriously. “...business...,” I finish lamely. I had more bullshit arguments all set up in my head ready to be rattled off but he's sliding the tie out of the V of his vest, pulling on it with gentle fingers. My own fingers itch to touch the material, to feel if it's as soft and smooth as it looks.

 

“Wanna touch it, Hardison?”

 

Why do his words have to sound so damn dirty? And why do I want to so bad I can taste it? I reach out before I can stop myself. Take over and pull it out the rest of the way, swallowing audibly when my mouth fills with saliva. I pat it down so it lies against his chest in alignment over the vest buttons. My fingers tremble at the silkiness. I wonder if Eliot can tell my knees are knocking a little. I slide the tie free from the knot at the base of his neck, careful to go slow as my hands brush against his neck and hair. God, I wanna run my hands through his hair, see if I can make him whimper from that alone. But right now I'm so focused on my task, on that damn tie, that I don't look at his face, don't see how much he's effected until he inhales sharply when the tie is finally just hanging around his shoulders. I can barely see it hiding under the lapels so I push off his jacket. Only then do I look back into his eyes.

 

Eliot's pupils are so large there's just a small ring of azure iris around them. Odd how they remind me of a pilot light flame. I know. Thinking of a kitchen appliance right now is weird as hell...

 

“It's a freakin' tie,” he growls. I shudder from the sound. Totally girly, right? Shuddering like I'm stuck in some Harlequin romance or something. But Eliot is the hottest thing since sliced bread at the moment and if that makes me a girl, put me in a dress and stilettos and call me Alecia!

 

I tug on both ends of that tie and bring his face close to mine. “This tie is about to get you laid if you play your cards right. So stop talking and keep it on, okay?”

 

When I drop to my knees he grabs onto the ends himself, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white and his whole neck reddens. He doesn't say a word, though. Not even when I rush to unbuckle his belt and rip it ungracefully out of the loops. I unzip the pants and pull them down as he hunkers down a little to widen his legs and give me more room to work with. Seems our Mr. Eliot's naughtier than I ever dreamed. The bad boy's not wearing any underwear. I gulp and watch his erection bob. He's already hard for me. Aching. Dripping. Jesus...My blood pulses under my skin when I glance up to see him throw his head back at the first lick. He's not letting go of the tie, crushing it in his grip. I tap his right hand and pull the tie away when an idea comes to me. If he's gonna ruin it anyway...

 

I rub the tie lightly across the head of his dick, collecting the glistening liquid there. He grunts in surprised appreciation. I keep brushing it along the taut skin to tease him as I lick and suck. Eliot's the one to shudder now at the dual sensations. I smile, sucking as much of him into my mouth as I can. My hands and the tie stroke what doesn't fit. I know we're destroying it but its metallic shine still looks sexy against his skin tone. And with the way he's reacting, the raw, rough sounds he's making, I don't even care that we'll have to throw it away afterward. Right now all I care about is that I'm so wound up I'm about to come myself. Eliot tastes amazing. Musky, earthy, and his dick is throbbing in a way that makes it clear he's close too. Within a minute his hands fall around my head, holding me there as he shouts my name and shoots down my throat. I swallow every bitter drop, coming messily inside my jeans. After we've both calmed down I take the tie away and shove it into my pocket. I kiss his dick softly to say goodbye and smile up at him.

 

“I hate wearing ties, Hardison. You know why? Because they always feel like someone's choking me...,” he grumbles. “Hate wearing suits at all. Stupid suits. Whoever heard of having to wear them to do business anyway??”

 

I'm still smiling. Somehow I get the feeling that if I ask in the future he'll be willing to wear a navy pin-stripe suit just for me. He'll also be willing to wear a silk tie. Blue. Exactly like the one in my pocket.


End file.
